Forever and Always
by TheFlamingMockingjay
Summary: The two best friends each secretly yearned for the other. Finally, the day before the reaping, They confessed their feelings. Then the unimaginable happened, and that thing would be called the hunger games. Clato!
1. Chapter 1

**A/n: Okay, this idea came to me while doing a hunger games role play. I ship Clato HARD. I love love love them.**

**this chapter promises to be fluff, but this is probably the only one like it. **

**i own nothing**

* * *

Cato was dead on his feet from the severe training session. There was nothing he wanted more than to collapse on his bed in his ramshackle home. Maybe that's why he was so surprised to find his best friend pacing the floor in his main room. "Clove?"

She stopped and turned to face him. "Oh, Cato. Hi."

"What are you doing here?" He hoped he didn't sound rude, something he had a tendency of doing.

She sighed. "I'm worried about tomorrow. What if I'm reaped?" She was afraid she sounded foolish and childish. But this was _Cato_. If she couldn't tell him, she couldn't tell anyone.

He placed what he hoped was a calming hand on her shoulders. He was all too aware of his sweaty palms and prayed he didn't leave a damp spot on her shirt. "Clover, we've been training all of our lives for this. "

"I know. But I could _die_ in the arena, Cato. Aren't you the least bit nervous?"

Cato mentally cringed at the thought of her dying. "Of course I am. I just know how to hide it well."

Clove suddenly realized how close they were and looked away so he couldn't see the blush creeping into her cheeks. "Yeah."

_This is it. _He thought. _This is my chance to tell her how I really feel. _Before he could lose his nerve, he said, "Clove, I'm going to tell you something but you have to promise not to kill me."

Her heart sped up. _Could it be? Does he feel the same way? _ "Sure, Cato. What's up?" she said, doing her best to act casual.

"Clove, I like you. No, that's not strong enough for how I feel. I love you. I have for a long time." Cato searched her face for a response.

She stared in shock. _Say something, you bumbling idiot! _ "Y-y-you have?"

He smiled at her. "Yeah, I have. But do you feel the same way?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Does that answer your question?"

Relief rushed through his body, and he couldn't stop smiling. Cato nodded. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that."

She smiled back at him. "Oh, I bet I do."

He leaned his forehead against hers, his big blue eyes so full of love. He could scarcely believe it. After years of silently longing for their friendship to become much more, fantasy became reality.

Clove laced her fingers through his. "Remember when we were 7 and you first started calling me Clover?"

Cato remembered that day very well.

_Him and his schoolmates were kicking a hard rubber ball around in the yard behind the brick building school was held in. Someone kicked it too hard and it landed in the nearby meadow. Cato, wanting more than anything to be in the popular crowd, volunteered to go retrieve it. When he arrived there, though, he was shocked to find a small brunette on her knees, examining the ground intently._

"_Whatcha doing?" He asked, extremely curious._

_She didn't bother to look up at the blonde boy. "Looking for four-leafed clovers. They're supposed to bring good luck and Mommy says we could use all the luck we can get."_

"_I don't believe in all that superstition." Cato said matter-of-factly, his seven-year old tongue stumbling on the last word._

_She shrugged indifferently. It was quite obvious she didn't care._

"_What's your name? Mine's Cato." He felt compelled to get closer to this strange girl. He could tell by the way she talked and her amazing concentration that she was smart. The more he looked at her, the more beautiful she looked._

"_Clove," she said, but a roar of laughter from the long-forgotten group behind Cato interrupted her, making him think she'd said "Clover."_

_The boy laughed. "Clover looking for clovers."_

_Her head snapped up. Cato's laughter stopped abruptly when he looked into her dark eyes. They were so deep, so… mesmerizing. "Clove!"_

_He returned his attention to her voice. "Huh?"_

_Clove sighed. "My name is Clove, you nincompoop! Not Clover!"_

_He looked down at his dingy school shoes and felt embarrassed. He didn't want to make this girl mad at him already. "Sorry." Then he had an idea. "Do you want me to help you?"_

_She studied him incredulously. "You want to help me?"_

"_Yeah. There's a lot of clovers and only one of you. I think you might need my help."_

_She sighed, clearly irritated by him, but nodded. "Sure."_

They had been best friends ever since. "I do. That was the year I had my first crush, after all. She was beautiful and smart and funny."

Clove could not ignore the stab of jealously that his her heart like a rogue knife. She looked away once again, this time hiding the pain she knew was evident in her eyes. "Yeah."

"Clove, look at me."

She shook her head adamantly.

"Clover, please. Look at me!" At that point most guys would have grabbed her chin and forced her to look at them, but not Cato. He moved to meet her gaze. "That girl? She was, is, you."

"Really?" Clove felt embarrassed for her jealousy.

Cato nodded. "Yes, really. It's always been you, no one but you."

She leaned forward and kissed him as passionately as she dared. "I don't want to, but I have to go. I promised my mom I'd help her start on the meal for after the reaping."

Cato sighed and moved his head, but not before sneaking another kiss in. "See you later, Clover. I love you."

Clove walked to the door. "I love you, too." Then she walks out leaving Cato alone in to face his father.

He looked at the wristwatch his mother left him when she died. Even now, she's still helping him. Thanks to the watch, he can be prepared for his father when he came home. Any second now…

The door swung open, rattling the thin walls, and Cato knew that this time it wasn't Clove.

* * *

**So, good, huh? review, pweeeeeeeeeeze!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: wow, 3 reviews is 2 more than I thought I'd get. (yes, hayley. I knew you'd review)**

**Love and hugs to my first 3 reviewers: fortheloveoffinnick**

** Melissa28245**

** iloveclato345**

**I teared up while writing this chappie. Don't hate me for it!**

* * *

Cato braced himself for the worst. He wasn't disappointed.

"What are you doing, you lazy piece of crap? I thought I told you to clean this house!" His father's eyes were bloodshot, telling Cato that he was drunk… again.

He averted his eyes. It always made his words sting a little less. "S-sorry."

Cain's face reddened as he opened his mouth to yell at his son again. "Sorry? Sorry doesn't cut it! I want you to scrub this place until it _shines. _Hear me, boy?"

"Yes, Father." _He must be in a good mood today, _Cato thought. _He didn't even mention_…

"I wish it had been you," his father spat. "Why couldn't it have been you?"

Cato squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the tears not to fall. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Quit saying sorry, boy! Sorry doesn't bring my sweet Cordelia back, now does it?" Cain collapsed on the couch, sobbing.

Had it not been his father, he would have made an attempt to comfort him. But he couldn't kick a man while he was down, either. His mother taught him better than that. Instead he stood there, watching and unmoving.

Finally, Cain looked up at his son. He whispered softly. "Don't go. Tomorrow, don't volunteer."

Cato stared at the man before him like he was a stranger. "_What?_"

"Tomorrow at the reaping, don't volunteer. You're all I have left." Cato looked into his eyes and saw that the previous tears had sobered him up, saw that he was serious.

He frowned. "Why? Why now? Why do you all of a sudden care about my well-being?"

"I've always cared about your well-being, Cato."

He felt bile rise in his throat. _Is he serious? _"Oh, like all those time you beat me in your drunken stupor or when you called me inane things because I didn't do your biding at super-sonic speed?"

When he didn't respond, Cato scoffed and walked out the door, slamming it in the process.

Then he ran.

He ran past all the homes like his, housing families that aren't. He didn't stop until he reached that meadow. The grass had long since overgrown, but he didn't care. He collapsed on the ground and cried his eyes out. Nothing had been the same since his mother's accident. He cried harder at the memory, still fresh in his mind.

* * *

_Eleven-year old Cato tugged on his mother's blouse. "Hey. Ma. Do you wanna go to the bakery with me? One of my buddies says he can sneak us some free bread."_

_Cordelia chuckled. "Cato Acacia, do you ever think of anything but your stomach?"_

_He smiled. "Nope. So, what do you say?"_

"_Why not? Besides, if I stay in this house one more day, I'll go crazy." She and her husband had been at it again. She knew her husband had a good heart, but work had been so stressful lately. Cato didn't know about that, of course. They only had those fights when her darling son wasn't home, she made sure of it. She unconsciously rubbed the small bruise that her husband had given her earlier on her shoulder, which was now covered by her clothing. _

_They walked the short distance to the bakery in silence. The small bell tinkled as they walked in the door and Cato rushed over to greet a boy of smaller height but equal weight._

_The boy pushed something into each of their hands, which they promptly shoved into their pocket. Pastries. Mother and son giggled as they walked back to the door. They were stopped by a large man they recognized as the baker. _

"'_Scuse me." He asked. "What's in your pockets?"_

_Cordelia put on a straight face. "Nothing, sir."_

_The man narrowed his eyes. "You lie. You think I can't smell the pastries?" He turned around, giving them the false hope that he would let them go. "THEIFS. THESE PEOPLE ARE THEIVES."_

_The peacekeepers came rushing towards the shop. Before they got there, Cordelia took the pastries out of her son's pockets and put them in hers._

_Cato looked at him mother, confused. "Ma, what are you doing?"_

_Desperation tinged her voice as she took him by the arms and said softly, "Cato, listen to me. When they take me away, don't tell them what you did. Say you had no part in this. When they grab me, run. Run home to your father and tell him what happened. Promise me."_

_His big blue eyes welled with tears. "No, Ma. I won't just leave you to die."_

_She took a ragged breath. "Promise me. Please." She paused before continuing, even quieter than before. "It's my final wish."_

_She pulled him close as he cried into her shirt. "M-ma, I love you."_

_He obeyed his mother's wish. When the peacekeepers forcefully shoved her hands forcefully behind her back, he didn't grab her waist and put up a fight when they tried to separate them, like every fiber of his being yearned to do. When they asked him if he knew her he simply replied, "No, I do not."_

* * *

Every day he beat himself up for that. He should have stuck up for her, not deny her like that. She was his _mother_. Not a day goes by where he doesn't wish he had a second chance. But it's all said and done, now. That page has turned and the past can't be re-written.

But a part of him knew he did the right thing by honoring his mother's wishes. At least she died knowing that she had done what every mother would do and protected her child. The main difference between her and other mothers is that not everyone would give their lives. She was special, one-of-a-kind.

That's why his father started drinking. The great pain of losing his kind and gentle wife had been heightened by the fact that when it happened they could barely speak to each other. He quit his job and became a drunk, abusing his only son and doing odd jobs around the town. It hurt to even look at him. He was so much like Cordelia. He had her blonde hair, large eyes, and even larger heart. No matter how many times he hurt the poor kid, not once did he stop loving him.

Once the sky began to turn dark, he shuffled home, since he had to be up early for the reaping. Cato crawled in his window, not daring to venture out of his room in fear of what state he would find his father in. He crawled under the thin blankets and felt his eyelids immediately close. Before he drifted off into what promised to be a fitful sleep, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Ma."

* * *

**Review please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh, my Gods. You guys are the best. I'm so glad you enjoy my story so far. **

**I do realize that this chappie is no where near as good as my previous two, but it's not terrible either. **

**I own nothing.**

* * *

Cato rose early, before the light of daybreak had graced the morning sky. The house was dark, but he saw clearly. The weight of what may happen that day weighed on his chest like one of those elephants from the stories young children are told about the days before the world fell to ruins.

After going for a run, the sky was lighter, so he decided to get ready. An hour later, he was heading out the door in his best button up shirt and black slacks, his hair greased down. He slammed it as soon as he heard the tell-tale squeak of the rusty door hinge leading to the main bedroom. He had nothing to say to that sorry excuse of a man.

The walk to town square was far too short, the sky too bright. He didn't know why, but a pit of dread was forming in his stomach. _Something bad is going to happen today,_ he thought to himself.

He ducked into the bakery, where Clove was waiting for him with a kiss. After examining his face for a moment, she said, "You feel that sense of misfortune, too, don't you?" It was not a question. She knew him that well.

Cato nodded grimly. "Yeah. I wonder what could go wrong?" His biggest fear was that Clove was going to get reaped. If that happened, he knew he'd volunteer and there would be no chance for them to be together.

Quietly, she responded, "Cato, It's the reaping. What do you think?" The boys were reaped after the girls, so if Cato's name was drawn, she couldn't volunteer to go with him. His chances of winning were high, far higher than hers, but mistakes happen. She could lose him forever.

He gently pulled her to him and stroked her hair. "Clover, I won't let anything happen to you- to us. I will be with you forever and always. Okay?"

She nodded and pulled away. She wanted to stay there forever with him, but the reaping would start soon. Clove pointed this out to her love, and they rushed off to the reaping where they were separated into their age groups. Clove was with the sixteen year olds, whereas Cato was several months older and already seventeen. They shot furtive and reassuring glances at each other before their district representative tapped the microphone impatiently. A Hunger games history later, they were ready to begin.

"Ladies First!" Pansy O'Donnell said all too cheerfully. She reached her long green nails into the glass bowl where the names were kept and slowly drew out a slip. "Clove Fontaine!"

Cato felt his heart sink at the announcement. _This can't be happening, _he kept thinking. It was like waking from a terrible nightmare to find reality no better. She did her best to keep her face emotionless as she walked up to meet Pansy, but Cato alone could see the truth; she was scared out of her mind.

Pansy barely had a chance to read the name of the boy tribute- some boy he knew from school but never really talked to- before he lunged forward. "I volunteer!" he shouted.

When he reached the stage where she stood, she spoke into the microphone, "Now, what could be the name of such a handsome lad?" before pointing it his way.

"Cato Acacia," he said plainly, careful not to draw attention to his hidden emotions.

"Ah, how suiting," she said in such a way that he never wanted to hear another compliment again. Not that he would. Where he was heading was a ruthless place with no concern for others. That is how they ended up in this very situation, after all.

He snuck glances at Clove out of the corner of his eye, not daring to let the whole nation of Panem know how he felt about this girl, not daring to give them something to use against him. When they shook hands they acted as if they were no more than acquaintances, a lie that shook young Cato to the core. He didn't want to hide like this, but he couldn't let the capitol use them as yet another love story. That would make everything so much harder than he would want it to be for her.

They were separated once they reached the large Justice building. Cato was shuffled into a blood red room with Clove in another across the hall. The room was dim, barely lit by a miniscule lamp on a rickety table in the far corner. A plush couch of the same shade of red adorned the center of the room. The carpet was damp and musty-smelling. Age-old pictures of former mayors hung crookedly on the depressing walls. All of the day's events began to overwhelm him, and he slouched down on the loveseat.

All the thoughts running through his head, and the one that remained constant was, _I can't let anything happen to her. _He couldn't stand and watch yet another person that he loved and held dear die. It would drive him to the point of insanity. Not that he watched his mother get killed. His father had forced him to stay home. One last act of kindness, he supposed. No, but he as good as did. When he denied relations with her, even though it's what she wanted, he saw a little part of uplifting disposition fall away like a wayward leaf in autumn. It hurt right to the core.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was surely no more than one, the peacekeepers returned and escorted them to the train station. He recognized one of them as someone who had dragged his mother away so long ago.

Once they were safely on the cold metal monster, Cato immediately seated himself next to Clove. It would be the first time they'd spoken since the reaping. He didn't wait for her to greet him; he just jumped right in to the speech he had prepared in the forlorn room. "Clover, I know we are going to face a lot of challenges in the next few weeks, but I promise you now that I will never leave your side. I will always be there to protect you. No matter what happens, Clove, I am yours. When I said forever and always, I meant it."

She grabbed his hand. "I know that, Cato."

He seemed taken aback. He had prepared that for nothing? "You do?"

She smiled wanly. "Of course. You are the kindest guy I've ever known to those he cares for, but the most ruthless to those who threaten said people. When you make promises as deep as the one you said earlier, it is not in spite. You meant every word that you said, and I couldn't ask for a better district partner."

Just as he was about to say something back that was guaranteed to be sweet and romantic, their mentor walked in. Cato knew her first name was Hazel, but there were so many victors that he couldn't remember her last. She had long dark hair and equivalent eyes. She was middle height and weight with a round face that withheld both seriousness and joy. She looked to be around the age his mother would have been had she lived.

Hazel gave them a look of cheerful disposition but her words were anything but. "There is a chance you may die in the next week, so you are to refer to me as 'Ms. Hazel' or 'Mentor'. There will be no friendliness or attachments. Understood?"

* * *

**I'm so nervous about this one. So, pweeeeeze review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh my gods. 10 reviews. I feel as i have died and gone to Elysium. Siriusly.**

**I own nothing except for my firebolt and my pride.**

* * *

Cato gulped back his surprise as best as he could. "Come again?"

She sighed and sat down in a chair across from the two tributes. "Listen. I know how cruel the games can be. I _was _in them, after all. There is only a one out of twenty-four chance you'll live, and that's only if everyone is equal in strength as you. Even then, you begin to lose sight of who you are as a human being.

"I once made the mistake of getting to know the tributes only to see them either die or live and become unrecognizable in personality. I will never do that again. So I repeat, keep your distance."

Cato nodded. "I hate that something so terrible could happen to you. You seem like a really nice person."

She smiled momentarily before standing up. "Well, since we have a while until the reapings are finished, who's up for some brunch?"

* * *

The meal was very rich and took them a long while to eat. Cato, having never had more than his share of food and near the point of taking tesserae, stuffed himself with about as much food as he could hold. Clove, on the other hand, knew the dangers of overeating when you've barely had enough to fill your stomach all your life, and only ate a little more than she usually did. Cato, unfortunately, ended up vomiting his meal up half an hour later.

By the time the food was all digested and Cato had less of a horrible smell to him, it had come time to watch the reapings of all the other districts. They settled down in a cozy car filled with plush couches and chairs with one large television in the center of the room. The reapings soon began to play. They tried to make note of all the remarkable ones, but Cato couldn't help but notice all of them. The girl from one was very pretty, but seemed like an airhead. Her partner seemed okay, none too extraordinary. He nearly shed tears when he saw Clove walk up to the stand. He looked fierce as he volunteered, but not for the real reason. He looked as though he couldn't wait to honor his district. It couldn't be less true.

The girl from five seemed cunning. Cato made a mental note to keep an eye on her. He felt bad for the crippled boy from ten, but knew that he was going to steer clear of him in the games. His heart broke when he saw a little girl get reaped from district eleven. He despised the Capitol even more for ripping such a young child from her. For district 12, yet another young girl was reaped. He nearly whooped with joy when he saw that someone had volunteered to take her place. Turns out it was her older sister. He suddenly pitied that poor mother. Then, a somewhat large boy joined her and Cato couldn't ignore the flash of recognition that flashed through the girl's eyes before the anthem played and the screen went black.

Cato's mind was a jumbled mess as he tried to interpret all that had happened that day. Not only could he lose the only girl he had ever loved, but he had to kill children. _Children! _The idea sickened him. How could he claim innocent lives? He never hated the Capitol more than he did in that moment. He banged his fist on the table before stalking off to find his room. _Screw dinner, _He thought. _How can I eat knowing what I must do in less than one week's time?_

He entered the spacious train car where he knew he was to sleep. It was even larger than his house, which basically says nothing, since his house barely fit his family when his Ma was alive. They always had to push each other out of the way.

His only consolation was that his love was in the car next to his. In this train that held them prisoner. Well, a luxurious prison, at that.

He didn't care, though. He didn't want to enjoy these district-made but Capitol-used things. In fact, he didn't even bother to look around at all the luxury. He simply lay down on the excessively soft bed, clothing and all, before dozing off to the thoughts of the past, the present, and what is yet to come.

* * *

He woke up early, the sun piercing his eyelids and making them glow with a red tint that he never really noticed until now, never really cared about until he was faced with the prospect of death. How he was able to sleep so easily for so long, he didn't know. But what he did know was that all he could think about was the girl who loved him and whom he loved with an equal or greater passion. Clove. The mere thought of the small brunette brought a smile to his face.

Then he remembered where he was and why he was there, and threw away the blanket that currently covered him. He didn't remember ever putting it over him, but he guessed he had woken up in the middle of the night when it was the coldest and put it on. He had to see her.

When Cato reached the dining car, Clove was already there. He took the seat beside her and reached for a roll, purposely bumping his elbow with hers. "Good morning, Clover. Did you sleep well?"

She smiled at him and stole the roll from his hand before biting into it. "I did, thanks for asking." When she saw the incredulous look on his face, she laughed. "Oh, sorry, did you want this?"

Cato retaliated by stealing a piece of sausage off of her plate and popping it into his mouth. "I'm better now."

Clove made a face at him just as Hazel walked in and sat across from them. "Did I miss something?"

Cato began to choke on his food, he was laughing so hard. Clove thumped him on the back until he stopped. "Jeez, Cato. At this rate, you're not even going to make it to the games." The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. An awkward silence blanketed the room like a layer of fresh snow.

Hazel broke the tension. "So, did you two know each other before this?"

The two friends looked at each other and Clove nodded slightly, indicating that she thought Hazel was safe. Cato understood and said, "Yes, we were close friends." He left it at that. If she was to know more, she would have to ask directly.

Hazel seemed to have read his mind, because she gave him a look and responded, "Oh, really? Just friends?"

Clove gave this laugh that Cato had never heard before. It was nervous and humble. Even softer than the light tinkling of the bells that always sound when you open the door to the bakery. And to Cato it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever heard. "No. We were more. Cato and I discovered our feelings for each other the day before the reaping."

Before she could get another word in, Cato quickly added, "And we would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this. The last thing we need is for the Capitol to make some tragic love story out of us. Everything's hard enough as it is."

Hazel gave them a sympathetic look. "Oh, wow. Sure." She shook her head. "God, that's awful."

Cato felt himself harden at these words. He didn't want anyone's pity. The only thing he wanted was to be able to live a long, full life with the girl he loved by his side. "Yeah, it is."

His mentor noticed this tension and quickly moved on to other topics. "So, what do you want to know about the games?"

Clove ignored the question and moved to the window. "Cato, come here."

He dutifully went over to where she was and took her hand. "Look! It's the capitol."

He heard the tone in her voice and knew that she was doing her best to keep an upbeat tone. The closer they got to the Capitol, the closer they were to death. It was imminent. Even if one of them survived the games, the insanity of losing the one that they loved would lead them to take their own life.

He gently gave her a reassuring squeeze of the hand. "It'll be okay, Clove. I promised you, remember?" He said softly.

She nodded. "I know."

He softly kissed her cheek. "I love you, Clover."

She smiled but instead of her usual 'I love you', she said, "I wish love wasn't so dangerous."

Cato was taken aback. He had clearly not been expecting this. He was still searching for words when Hazel cleared her throat. "Sorry to disturb you two lovebirds, but it's time to get off the train."

They walked to the door hand-in-hand, but let go as soon as Hazel gripped the door handle. "You guys ready?"

Cato sighed at the loss of warmth in his hand. He wanted nothing more than to proclaim to all of Panem that he loved the very girl standing beside him. But the need to keep her alive kept the desire at bay. "As ready as I'll ever be."

She threw open the door with a flourish and said, "Welcome to the Capitol."

Flashing cameras and cheering crowds greeted them. Cato would have had a nervous breakdown from the excitement had Clove not said softly under her breath, "I love you, too."

* * *

**See, Alleson, I told you I would update. Now you can't kill me! REVIEW!**


End file.
